


Sometimes the Heart Yearns (for Silk, and the Tender Skin Beneath it)

by StarkRogers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pining, the bastille outfit, the coat from the bastille
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers/pseuds/StarkRogers
Summary: Just a very short fic of Crowley taking care of himself, using Aziraphale's jacket from the Bastille scene.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 125





	Sometimes the Heart Yearns (for Silk, and the Tender Skin Beneath it)

The pillowcase was damp from his own breath and spit; his nose hurt from the way his face was pressed so hard against the linen, but he barely noticed any of it as his hand flew over his cock, stroking himself hard and dry. He was too desperate to even lick his own palm as he fucked his own hand, face-down on the bed.

_Oh fuck - oh fuck -_

He wasn't sure if he was whispering or if he had managed to keep it inside his own head, but he didn't care. He was naked in bed, under the covers, something secret hidden away beneath them. Cream-colored silk, embroidered and finely tailored. Stolen - no, _rescued_ after the fact. He could feel the tip of his cock rubbing against it with every stroke.

"Ah - Aziraphale -"

He was close, _so close_. He grabbed a fistful of the jacket and tugged it up to his nose, inhaling the sweet perfume the angel had been wearing as climax began to heat his loins. He moaned and imagined the angel was here with him, moaning too, gasping beneath him, his tights pulled down over his knees, ankles locked behind Crowley's back-

"Fuck - please -"

He whimpered and shook and urged his aching arm just a little bit faster, his palm just a little tighter (just like he imagined Aziraphale's body would feel around him, clenching with his own climax).

"Ah - ah! Ah! Fuck - fuck - Aziraphale -"

Climax shot through him, his hips bucking, body curling as he felt his warm release soaking his fingers and the jacket beneath him. He stroked himself through it, moaning at the sweet relief of slickness around his cock.

"Oh fuck - yes - thank you, angel -"

He curled his fingers over the tip of his cock and shuddered from over stimulation as another, smaller gush of come leaked from his length. He fell bonelessly against the jacket, his breath shaky and shallow. He clung to the jacket with his slick hand, and willed himself to fall asleep before dark thoughts could drag him down into doubt and self-loathing.


End file.
